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"Tommaso isengagednow," Santino reminds us. "Lazaro couldn’t beat off with him even if he wanted to."
"Which I absolutelydon’t," Lazaro spits out.
Faro smirks. "Tommaso is a little young for you. I’m curious to know your age when it happened."
I fail to resist the urge to crack a smirk. "Let’s not open that can of worms."
Lazaro’s eyes turn to slits. "For your information,Tommasowanted to beat off withme.I never initiated anything."
Santino howls with laughter. "This is wonderful."
"Wonderfully fucked up," Giosuè drawls.
"Tommaso was an annoying puppy who wouldn’t leave me alone," Lazaro grits out.
"That’s why we all thought he was a power bottom," Faro drawls, turning to me. "You remember that, right?"
I nod. "Of course."
"None of us believed he was a Daddy," Faro continues, enjoying this trip down memory lane. "He was too puppy-like as a teenager to be anything other than a horny sub. As it turns out, he matured—and changed."
Marcello nods. "That’s the beauty of growing up. You don’t have to remain the same person you were when you were fourteen or fifteen."
"Eighteen," Lazaro spits out. "I’ll fucking guarantee it."
We all turn to him.Hmmm—this is interesting.
"The math doesn’t add up," Giosuè drawls.
"How old were you at the time?" Santino queries.
"I was nineteen," Lazaro growls.
"Well, that sounds legit," I tease. "I didn’t realize you were only one year older than Tommaso."
"It’s because Tommaso seemsway youngerthan he is," Faro drawls. "So immature."
I roll my eyes. "Like you’re any better."
"Speak for yourself," Giosuè snaps back. "Faro and I are the epitome of maturity."
Lazaro crosses his arms over his chest. "I’ll takeDelusional Twinks for $1,000,Alex."
"This isn’tGay Jeopardy," Faro drawls. "Quit hating on myfratello."
"Giosuè is ourfratellotoo," Marcello reminds Faro. "We have every right to roast him."
Giosuè taps his foot on the ground. "I didn’t sign up for this."
"Don’t act so innocent," Santino growls. "Weren’t you saying I looked like I was wearing eyeshadow while we ate our charcuterie board on top of Mount Etna this morning? Didn’t you also insult Marcello’s shoes?"
"Oh, great," I snap. "You ate a freaking charcuterie board without me. You know I love those."
Giosuè ignores me as he glares at Santino. "I wasn’t wrong in either case."
"You can’t dish it out and then not take it," Santino hits back, a smirk forming on his face.
Just then, three loud voices reach our ears.
